


Willing & Well Paid For…

by xof1013



Category: Queer as Folk (UK)
Genre: M/M, Sexual Fantasy, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-28
Updated: 2010-08-28
Packaged: 2017-10-11 07:29:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/109943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xof1013/pseuds/xof1013
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Playing Truth or Dare with Stuart Alan Jones is like losing the race before it's begun.  So now what?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Willing & Well Paid For…

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Alexis and Farrah for the betas! Hugs…

"Willing &amp; Well Paid For…"  
By xof

March 20, 2004

 

"You've got the money, yeah?"

Vince frowned at the question, not used to being in this situation. "Course, course I do."

The man across the room, and stood by the door like he was ready to bolt at the first sign of bad news. "You need to put it on the dresser, or I'm leaving." His words were short, but soft - the tone saying it was an obvious detail he was explaining.

Obvious or not, Vince felt a moment of embarrassment for not having known the etiquette. If that was even the word for what was about to happen. He'd never been here before, a participant in this act. But he'd resigned himself to following through. After all, he'd never hear the end of it if he tried to pull out. Course that didn't stop him from feeling a bit the twat at playing tagalong in Stuart's latest attempt to educate Vince's less experienced sexual palate.

Hence here he was, walking over and dropping the bills down on the imitation wood particleboard dresser. The sounds of the street traffic evident through the thin door of the cheap motel dive they'd come to after Vince had managed to make the approach Stuart had dared him to achieve. Bloody hell, picking up a prostitute off of Hollywood and Vine; it's mental.

Be forewarned. Never play Truth or Dare with Stuart Alan Jones. There's nothing he won't say, and nothing he hasn't done. At least that Vince has found yet….

Once the money was on display, the man walked further into the room - leaving the safe haven of his nearest escape. He reached out and clutched the money in his fist, raising his eyes to Vince's face as he asked, "The accent. You're from England, right. I mean, you're not a cop?"

A laugh burst out as Vince shook his head, the awkwardness easing as he grinned a bit. "No, I'm not a cop." He swallowed as he watched his trick removing the tight mid-drift purple tee he'd been wearing, even as the man deftly pocketed the money in the back pocket of his low hung black jeans. Vince stuttered out a quick, but nervous, "And you? Wh… Where are you from?" The words trailed off into silence as Vince's train of thought was wrecked by the sight of slim fingers pulling down on denim until the man was naked with moves made economically quick. Well practiced and with a loss of shame.

Walking towards Vince until they were almost touching, the trick looked up at him through the dark lashes that shadowed his eyes. "Doesn't really matter, does it?" Obviously small talk wasn't something he specialized in…. Not when there were other things he could be doing instead. He put his hands on Vince's chest, rubbing gently over the hard nipples hidden by the blue button up shirt his client was wearing. "What do you want?" His voice a murmur, accent generically American without distinction of origin.

Vince moved in to kiss him, but the man turned his head. "I don't do that." At Vince's questioning frown, the trick smiled with a calculated seductiveness. "Anything else you want, I'll do. Just say."

A bit angry at the rebuke, and at being denied one of the things he enjoyed most about shagging - Vince decided to play into the scene. He was the one paying after all, so he should get what he wanted. It was an advantage, he would find - leaving insecurity behind in the wake of certainty.

"Get on your knees." Even as he said the words, Vince felt a faint flush building across his face. He pushed the self-doubting away, and began to take his clothes off as the man before him did as told. Throwing his kit over in a corner, Vince stood as the hustler raked heavy-lidded eyes over the length of his body. Usually a self-conscious person, Vince breathed in deeply as he felt a unique change-up in his body's response.

Empowerment flowed over him, heating his blood. It melted away his baser concern, his worry and doubts. Leaving him free to enjoy, and to have the bullocks to take that for which he'd paid. He reached out and threaded his fingers in the trick's dark hair; the straight tresses slicked back from the guy's face. Pulling, Vince sucked in a breath as the man opened his mouth and took Vince's length inside.

"Oh fuck, yeah." Breathless and hissing, Vince moaned aloud. Riding the tumult of the hustler's skill, he shivered and clenched his teeth as his hips moved over the man's eager tongue, through the tight ring of his lips. Vince was fucking into the bliss of the moment, the pleasure of illicitness. It wasn't meant to last, wasn't meant to coax. It was a ravagement that had Vince getting closer and closer to the edge.

Too soon, he didn't want it to happen so soon.

"Sto… Stop!" He stepped back even as he regretted losing the warmth of his haven. Looking down, Vince took in the shining eyes and the swollen mouth of the man kneeling below. And further still, he saw the answering hardness that bespoke of his trick's enjoyment. Vince couldn't help but find him beautiful, this creature of sex and lust. And all of this was his for the taking, given a word.

The words….

"Lie down on the bed."

Eyes never leaving Vince's own - the man slowly crawled onto the bed until he came to rest in a sprawl on his back. His tan skin was a sharp contrast to the old worn blue spread that covered the mattress of the double bed. As Vince continued to stare without moving closer or giving any further command, the trick trailed his fingers over his chest and thighs. The pace was lazy and meant to entice.

Judging by Vince's heavy breaths and clenched fists, it was working. He managed after a bit to speak, to answer the other man's erotic show by demanding more. "Spread yourself for me."

With a knowing look, the man did just that. He opened his legs and brought his knees up until he lay completely exposed to Vince's eyes. His for the taking. It was obscenely beautiful, erotic the view. The trick's cock was hard and pressed against his stomach; his balls were drawn in close to his body by his position and below that…. The curves of his ass, the pink opening between his cheeks.

Vince shivered at the sight. Enjoying the blatant offering, wanting inside the man's heat.

But first….

Reaching down, Vince grabbed the royal purple tee the hustler had on just moments before. Inexpensive and thread bared, the fabric ripped satisfyingly as he yanked it into one long tatter.

"Hey!" The man made to leave the bed, angered at Vince's action. He stopped as Vince reached into his own discarded pants and removed more money. Eying the bills as Vince walked to the bed, the guy remained still.

Vince held the shredded tee in one hand, holding out his other with the cash - offering the bait as he spoke. "There's the catch, yeah? No kissing you said. But what will you trade in place of that?"

Suspicion blazing across his face, the trick glared at Vince. "What do you want?"

"Easy. Nothing mental." Vince grinned a bit as he nodded for the other to take the money he was holding out. Vince watched as the guy wearily reached out, only to clench the trick's clenched hand within his own - the money crushed between their fingers as they stayed in their strange sort of stand off. At the frown he saw growing on the man's face, Vince chuckled softly. "Your hands, that's all." He pushed the money further into the other's hand as he brought the purple fabric up to slowly wind around the trick's extended wrist. "Just want to…." His words drifted off into silence as the man pulled back, keeping the cash as he cocked his head thoughtfully.

"Just my hands, legs free? And not tight, yeah?"

Swallowing around the lump in his throat, Vince nodded. "Yeah, hands over your head is all."

With a raised eyebrow, the trick mentioned, "There's no headboard to be tied to in this shithole."

"Ju… Just your wrists together." Vince almost held his breath as he watched the guy thinking it out, relaxing as he watched the other man nodding finally in agreement.

Throwing the money down in the vicinity of his pants, the trick came up onto his knees and held out his hands to Vince. Willing and well-paid-for submission….

Just the sight of it, of him, made Vince harder. He made quick work of tying the purple fabric in a figure eight about the man's wrists, keeping enough of his concentration to maintain the slack he'd promised.

Testing his bonds, the trick looked up at Vince and grinned. A smile he kept as he slowly lowered himself back down onto the bed, lying on his back as he once more took the position that Vince had requested. Hands over his head, the man spread his thighs and brought his legs up until his feet were flat on the mattress. Again the vision of illicit offering….

A fantasy brought back to reality as he spoke one final reminder. "Clock's ticking."

Vince clenched his jaw as the burn of those words worked through his system, ticked off at what they implied. Implied, hell. What they meant. Commerce of the flesh, a cattle call of commodity. And he was just another bloke in line.

Fine, then he'd take what he was paying for, and gladly.

Now….

Making a quick grab for his stash of condom and lube, Vince moved onto the bed. He knelt between the tan thighs. Stroking his own hard-on, Vince looked his fill. Looked and felt the other's eyes on him in turn. His trick arched slightly, moving his hips in time to Vince's wanking hand - untouched and unable to do anything as Vince continued not to touch him.

With a sudden move that had the man crying out, Vince pushed his free hand between the trick's legs and purposefully pushed a finger inside. Thinking he'd meet with some resistance, maybe a need for prep - Vince shivered as his finger found the way opened and smooth, lube already inside. The passage ready.

He continued to thrust into the guy's body, adding another finger, then two. Working him from the inside until the man was whimpering and arching into Vince's touch. A muttered, "Please," from the bound man had Vince closer to the edge of his limited control than he'd thought possible so quickly.

Tearing into the condom wrapper, Vince smoothed it over his length with a shaking hand. He needed to feel the one below, to be inside - a part of him. Fighting to keep his eyes open, to watch the hustler's face - Vince covered the man's body with his own and pushed. Pushed and smiled at the loud catch of the man's breath - at the gasps that sounded from them both as Vince teased just a bit more by moving the head of his cock in, then out - taking his time before he thrust all the way.

And then he was there, clenched inside tight clinging walls of heat. So sweet, so necessary. "Oh my god."

His words chorused by the hissed appreciation of the other man's, "Yessssss…."

Moving, thrusting in a determined pace - Vince moaned as he worked the fire between them. The sound of his heart screaming in his ears, mixed with the panting of his breathing and the soft, desperate grunts coming from the trick beneath him. Against him. All around him.

The man's fists were clenched tightly above his head, grabbing at the mattress to keep them dutifully in the place Vince had demanded. His head thrown back, eyes closed and mouth open - his body slick with sweat as he arched and moved against Vince. Feet planted on the bed, he lifted himself into each thrust - wanton and animal as he rubbed his aching flesh into Vince's driving abdomen. Fighting for the friction he was otherwise being denied.

Not long, Vince knew. His body was chasing bliss and he was closing in on the win. Moving closer, pressing the man into the bed - Vince buried his hands in the trick's hair. Pulling the man's head back, holding him captive to Vince's strength, Vince raked his tongue up the line of the guy's throat until he reached his ear.

Voice made gruff with tension and need, Vince growled a question. "How many tonight? How many men have had you? How many after me?" Each question paralleled by the circling of his hips, causing them both to moan.

Shuddering from the intensity, from the pleasure - the man answered in a hushed gasp. "Just you, you're the first. Tonight." He cried out as Vince reached between them and started stroking his cock, the rhythm merciless and the intent clear.

Vince was the one in control. And he'd had enough of their current roles….

Looking into the darkening blue of the man's eyes, Vince held his gaze as he demanded his due. "I'm the last."

Writhing up against Vince, he answered with a rough tone - accent thick and new to the room but familiar and loved. "Yes, the last. Vince, you're the only…ahhhhh."

Feeling the clench of his lover's body, the jerk and splash of his come hot between them, Vince cried out as he followed into joy. One name on his tongue, "Stuart…."

And the game came to an end. Or rather, continued its new beginning.

Finis….

(PS - lol…. If you haven't guessed, this fic is set after Stuart and Vince run off to the States. And yes, they are already together. Stuart just thought since they were in Hollywood, why not pull a Hugh Grant and have an night of role playing…. Stuart's hustler to Vince's john, hehe.)


End file.
